


Thawing

by GoldStarGrl



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-26 20:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2665391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldStarGrl/pseuds/GoldStarGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson, irritated and late, cuts his roommate's shower short and cold. </p><p>It's funny, what can cause a breakdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thawing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very first House fic, so I hope it turned out alright. I couldn't stop thinking about the episode "One Day One Room" and House's admission of cruel and unusual abuse at the hands of his father. I had to find out what happened when those scars were brought to light.

The shower was gushing, hot water raining down at such a hard and fast rate it sounded like gunshots against the porcelain.

Wilson sighed and leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom. It seemed House was retaliating for Wilson's earlier use of his toothpaste and floss by taking a long shower to end all long showers. The mirror above the sink was completely fogged over, and hot, thick steam filled the air.

"You're going to set off your smoke detectors." Wilson called over the sound of the water.

"I can't hear you!" House replied in his usually faux-peppy voice, and resumed singing loudly and slightly flat. " _I'm wild again, beguiled again, a simpering, whimpering child again_!”

Wilson pushed back the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch. He had to be at work in thirty minutes, and he really didn't want to keep patients waiting just because he had had to drive his eternally lazy friend while his bike was in the shop.

" _Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, I'm yourssss_.”

As quietly as he could, Wilson tip toed across the linoleum floor. At lightening speed, he reached passed the blue cloth shower curtain, wrapped his hand around the faucet handle, and yanked it all the way down, feeling a few drops of freezing water as he pulled his hand out.

He expected House to shout. To jump as far as he could without collapsing before glaring, swearing, and sullenly grabbing his towel.

There was a voice, but it let out something closer to a strangled gasp. There was labored breathing and heavy thudding as he stumbled toward the diverter and pushed the water down from the shower head into the faucet. House pushed back the curtain and looked out at him. His hair was plastered to his face, and his wide blue eyes were…horrified.

He was looking at Wilson like he was the monster under his bed.

"Why would you do that?" He asked, and his voice was so much softer than normal that Wilson took a step back.

"Are-Are you OK?" He asked lamely. "Did I hurt you?”

House just looked down at his feet where more icy water was collecting. He pushed the curtain all the way back and stepped out as fast as he could. Wilson looked up at the ceiling to protect his friend's modesty, but he could feel House staring, unblinking, at him while he found his cane and wrapped a towel around his waist.

"That is a completely shitty thing to do to someone." He grumbled as he pushed past Wilson and hobbled out the bathroom door. Wilson felt his heart plunge into his stomach as he followed him.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!"

House swung around, sending water droplets flying all over the hall. "You didn't scare me.” He scoffed.

"Clearly I did."

"It was annoying."

"It bothered you way more than it should've."

“There's just no reason to do something like that."

"I'm trying to teach you to get to work on time!"

"That's not the way to teach someone something, Dad!"

A pregnant pause fell over the hallway as House realized what he had said. He inhaled sharply, tearing his eyes away from Wilson and looking down at his bare feet. Wilson let his arms fall loosely to his sides, hands bumping against his thighs.

“…Ah.”

“Shut up.” House retrieved his bearings and limped towards his bedroom, pushing the door closed as hard as he could. The slam echoed through the quiet morning. Wilson followed him and jiggled the knob, but it was locked or stuck, jammed with a coat hanger, maybe an old shoe.

“…Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want so many things. A million dollars, Pez-dispencers of Vicodin, Carmen Electra in my bed - shockingly, a chat with you doesn’t make the list.” House’s voice was slightly muffled. “Better luck next time, champ."

“I didn’t know the cold water was…triggering. I’m sorry.” He felt everything he said was coming out too slow and in the wrong words. There was no response. He knocked more sharply. “Please let me in.”

There was still no answer. Wilson sighed and looked from side to side. An old, heavy umbrella was leaning against one of the small end tables that littered the halls and rooms. He picked it up with both hands, like a bettering ram, and charged at the door. On the third try, it creaked. On the fourth, it gave way.

He stumbled, dragged in with the force of breaking and entering, and saw House sitting on his bed with his back to him. His cane was thrown carelessly on the center of the mattress. Wilson considered picking it up and climbing across the sheets, but that seemed juvenile and oddly intimate, so he just walked around the edge of the bedframe until he could see his friend’s face.

House had thrown on jeans and an old gray Ramones t-shirt. His feet were bare, and he was furiously wiping the spaces in between his toes and fingers until they were dry, over and over again. It was almost obsessive.

“House-" Wilson started, but lost his voice when House turned to look at him. His eyes were rimmed red. They glared as Wilson opened and closed his mouth like a choking fish. This was apparently a sign of aggression.

"What? You have something to share with the class, Jimmy?" His voice was loud and harsh, trying to compensate for it's earlier weakness. Wilson reached out tentatively, like he was going to grip his shoulder.

"It's just, House, you-" 

“What do you want from me?” He growled. “Want me to open up? Talk about getting forced to lie in tubs of ice for two, three hours? How is that going to benefit anyone?”

Wilson shook his head, trying to hide his horror and wear his ‘concerned doctor’ mask convincingly. “House, childhood abuse can leave permanent scars, both physical and psychological-“

“Don’t think I know that? I’m forty-six years old and three seconds of cold water makes me…” He pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows in a thin parody of a sarcastic smile. “Whatever. It still works, I guess.” He slapped his hands against his thighs. "I’m done, let’s go to work.”

He tried to reach for his cane but Wilson stopped him. He leaned forward and hugged him, tightly. House didn’t respond except to twist his neck slightly and stare blankly at him.

“I’m sorry.” Wilson said simply, resting his chin on his shoulder. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

He lingered a few seconds longer. House smiled tightly and quickly patted on his shoulder blade. Wilson stood and cleared his throat, walking to the door with mutterings of starting the car and getting coffee. House grabbed his cane and stood, the towel still hanging from his arm.

“Thank you.”

Wilson paused, but didn’t turn around. He sighed, something between sadness and satisfaction, and continued down the hall. House smirked.

He dropped the towel on the floor and followed him.


End file.
